


derek has a what?

by PrincezzShell101



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincezzShell101/pseuds/PrincezzShell101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is standing in the middle of Derek's loft. And Derek? Yeah. Derek is in front of him shirtless and… and… and there is definitely something weird going on here; because from Stiles' nice view and from the way the sun is reflecting through the loft's big square-like windows it, um, looks like Derek's nipple is, uhhhh, how to put this… shining?</p><p>Okay. Nope. Not shining. More like… shimmering? Glowing? Sparkling?</p><p>Fuck. He doesn't even know.</p><p>This is waaaaaaayyyy too Twilight for him right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	derek has a what?

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing much to say but… 
> 
> ABUSE OF ITALICS AHEAD! xD

So…  _surprises_. Stiles has lived through them. Oh, a whole  _bucket load_ of them. To tell the truth, surprises are probably the only main consistent in his life. He's so used to them popping up out of nowhere (and with no warning) that he's basically got himself prepared daily for one to barge its way through and meddle itself in his life. And when it does? Hell, he won't even be  _surprised_ when the surprise finally shows up. It shouldn't be a shock to anyone really, not that much, that he's even created a  _list_ of surprises that he has managed to survive through, and that the list is still ongoing in case  _more_ surprises decide to make themselves known. The list is very accurate, and has  _every single_ surprise he's conquered down head-on with his awesome skills of preservation.

So, the list… Let us go through it, shall we?

  1. Scott being bitten by an  _alpha_ … and turning into a  _werewolf_. SURPRISE!
  2. Peter turning out to  _be_ the alpha… the one that bit his  _best friend_. SURPRISE!
  3. Derek killing Peter and becoming the  _new_ alpha…  _and_ more of an asshole. SURPRISE!
  4. Jackson transforming into a weird Godzilla-like lizard monster called a  _kanima_  that is controlled by a  _master_ … who turns out to  _Matt_ , of all people. SURPRISE!
  5. Creepy grandpa Gerard kidnapping him and beating him unconscious in the _Argent basement_ … and bruising his  _ribs_. SURPRISE!
  6. Scott putting  _mountain ash_ in Gerard's medication… and secretly planning  _behind Derek's back_. SURPRISE!
  7. A  _pack_ of werewolves arriving to Beacon Hills… oh, sorry, an  _alpha pack_. SURPRISE!
  8. Heather getting  _kidnapped_ … and then showing up dead as a  _human sacrifice_. SURPRISE!
  9. Derek's younger sister Cora turning up  _alive_ … not  _dead_  like she was 'supposed' to be. SURPRISE!



So, yeah.  _Surprises_. 

You could say that Stiles has even thought of creating his own  _theme song_ featured around the whole 'surprises' gig he has to face so very frequently, (and for once, he isn't even  _joking_ ).

Yep. That's how annoying this 'surprises' thing is getting.

But, above all surprises Stiles has ever found himself coming into contact with… this one is  _by far_ the biggest.

And I mean  _BIG_.

The usual _SURPRISE!_ thing doesn't even  _begin_ to cover this one.

Not. At.  _All_.

"Uh, Derek?" He blinks his eyes once, twice,  _thr_ ice… and nope, it's  _still there_. "Derek? What…  _What_ —"

Stiles is standing in the middle of Derek's loft. And Derek? Yeah. Derek is in front of him  _shirtless_  and… and… and there is  _definitely_ something weird going on here; because from Stiles's nice view and from the way the sun is reflecting through the loft's big square-like windows it, um, looks like Derek's nipple is, uhhhh, how to put this…  _shining_?

Okay. Nope. Not shining. More like… shimmering? Glowing?  _Sparkling?_

Fuck. He doesn't even  _know_.

This is waaaaaaayyyy too _Twilight_ for him right now.

"—What the hell is  _that_?"

Derek, in his very nice and  _shirtless_ glory, just arches an eyebrow (a very  _nice_ damn eyebrow, 'cause the guy freaking just so happens to  _have those_ ). His jade eyes drift down, following the same pathway Stiles's own eyes are taking, before he lifts them upward again to glare the teen  _right in the face_  with a look that  _really_ can only manage  _so_ much dryness until it falls flat. Then he speaks. With a grunt… and that's all.

Stiles's eyebrows scrunch up a little and he's probably half-frowning right now, his lips doing that thing they do when he's not sure whether to say something or just keep his mouth shut.

Derek answers his own question for him.

By rolling his eyes.

Oh, and  _finally_ speaking words.

"This," he says, like he's talking to a little child that's asking its mother why the sky is blue, pointing to what Stiles has been ogling at since he walked in, "is a nipple ring."

Okay. Stiles? Yeah.  _Not_ expecting that.

All the breath in his lungs seems to explode in his chest, rising upward, and when he manages to talk it only comes out as a small sound, barely a squeak. "Uh…  _wha_?"

Derek stares at him blankly, his eyes the only thing on his face that's showing an emotion… they're glowering. (To Stiles it looks like he's thinking, deciding about whether he should grab him by the throat, drag him roughly across the loft's hardwood floor, and throw him out of the door head first so he cracks his skull against the concrete wall outside.) The guy  _seriously_ has enough venom in his eyes to create a vivid mental picture of a cruel and violent act without even  _saying_ anything, let alone  _making_ the threat.

Talk about scary.

But all that's gone when Derek snorts, shaking his head like he's secretly pondering the fact that Stiles is an idiot (which he probably  _is_ ). Then Derek's walking over to the black leather couch in the corner of the room, picking up a towel that was draped over the arm, wiping it across his forehead a few times before rubbing it over his face.

 _Oh_. Ooops.

Yeah, Stiles  _is_ an idiot.

He's just, accidentally, barged in on Derek's get-those-wolfy-muscles- _pumpin'_ workout session.

Stiles flails his limbs a bit when Derek stops wiping his face with the towel, turning toward him with a glare that can only mean _I will kill you and I will like it_.

"Uh, sorry for interrupting your—"

"What are you doing here, Stiles?" Derek cuts him off (which,  _rude_ ), but then his eyes soften down on their look of pure death as he sighs tiredly. "Do you need anything?"

Stiles is officially speechless. He wasn't actually  _expecting_ Derek to talk, let alone  _ask_ him any questions. He was more so expecting the alpha to physically remove him from his presence forcibly with a threat of ripping throats and spine severing and spleen removing.

When Stiles doesn't answer Derek just rolls his eyes again, a little more dryly this time, before lifting up a water bottle (that Stiles didn't even see him  _get_ ), to his lips, and taking a few long gulps. Stiles can't help but find himself licking his own lips as he watches Derek's Adam's apple bob with each swallow, sees the alpha's throat muscles working through each sip. It gets him thinking on things like  _does he always look like this when he drinks?_ and _would it look this good when he's swallowing my co_ —

 _NO_.

Stiles will  _not_  let himself finish that thought.

 _No_. _Way_. _In_. _Hell_.

Derek's already finished drinking anyway, and now he's back to glaring at him with his 'angry dagger eyes'.

" _Stiles_ , what are you doing here? Do you  _need_ anything?" Derek sounds more agitated than tired this time and suddenly Stiles is thinking of running away like a small little puppy that's been hit on the nose with a newspaper for peeing on the rug.

But he doesn't.

"Uhhhhh… Oh,  _right_! Yeah. Um. Is Sc—"

"He's not here. Left to see Allison," Derek says dismissively, cutting him off again (which,  _so rude_ ). Then the alpha's turning his back and walking away like he has something  _way_   _better_  to do than stand there half-naked and talk to the kid who'd stormed into his loft, stared at his… nipple ring… and questioned him with the quest of finding his best friend. ( _Rude_ , I tell you, just plain  _rude_.)

Okay. And maybe a  _little_ understandable…

"Hey!" Stiles squawks, chasing after Derek and finding him in the kitchen… opening the fridge and taking out a can of Dr. Pepper.

 _Huh?_ What is _this_ he sees?

"Wow. Derek Hale drinks Dr. Pepper," he laughs. The laugh falls short when Derek opens the can with a claw (the can lid ripping off and getting impaled on the sharp appendage), while giving him a look that says _see this, yeah, this could be you_. "But hey! There's nothing wrong with that, no sir! Dr. Pepper is good!  _Awe_ some!  _Great_!"

Derek's evil glower turns into a pained expression, and then he takes a sip of the Dr. Pepper, closing his eyes like looking at Stiles actually  _hurts_ him.

Stiles feels  _offended_.

And also, a  _little bit_ aroused… because there goes Derek's Adam's apple again.

" _Stiles_ , just go home."

Stiles jumps at that, too indulgent in watching Derek's throat moving, and not noticing when Derek had put down the can on the kitchen bench, nor seeing when he'd opened his eyes again and stared him down with an exasperated expression.

He's tempted to go, listen to Derek and just  _go_ … but he doesn't. Instead he tries to speak.

"But Sc—"

And gets cut off again.

"I'll let him know you came by," Derek says, like he's quickly trying to evade Stiles's chatter. "Now go." He points to the entry to the kitchen. "I have stuff to do."

Stiles wrinkles his nose up in distaste to Derek's chop-chop-and-get-the-fuck-out attitude, drumming his fingers on the kitchen counter top. "You're awfully evasive today, aren't you?"

Derek growls (there's no other way to put it) and storms up to Stiles, clamping a hand down on his shoulder. "Stiles.  _Go_.  _Home_."

"Sure! I'll go," he says, sarcasm dripping off his every word, "as soon as you tell me why you're evading me." He's ignoring the grip Derek's got on his shoulder, even if he feels the nails lightly digging into his skin beneath the thin layer of the shirt he's wearing.

Derek's grip tightens, nails feeling sharper as they start digging in more. Stiles barely hisses a short breath before the alpha's letting go, pushing him away and yelling _go_ at him like he's just sick and tired of dealing with him and seeing his face. (Which shouldn't be on, 'cause he has a fairly  _nice_ face, thank you very much.)

"Oh, so you're just pushing me away and telling me to get lost? Is _that_  what you're doing now?" he snaps, biting back a sneer when Derek sneers at him first.

" _Yes_ , that's  _exactly_  what I'm doing," Derek says, all dry humour and snark. "Now Stiles, why don't you  _get lost_."

That is  _it_. Stiles is  _not_ going to stand here and have that rabbit-eating jerk say shit like that to him and get away with it.

He moves, very agile, pushing Derek backward,  _hard_ and without thinking about the consequences which his actions may set in motion.

He  _really_ should have.

Because when Stiles is in the moment, he just doesn't pay attention to where certain parts of his body go.

 _Especially_  his hands.

Which right now, one of them is… Let's just say, it's somewhere he'd wanted to put it ever since he'd walked into the loft this morning with 'find Scott' on the brain.

The shattered gasp that breaks through the silence in the loft is clearly audible and Stiles cannot miss it.

Stiles freezes.

" _Stiles_." Derek's voice is low, not as audible as his gasp was, but is really cutting it quite close. His teeth are gritted together, jaw clenched. Stiles can see the alpha's cheekbones; their structure is  _very_ nicely defined when his facial muscles are pulled up in strain.

"Y-Yeah?" he stammers, eyes wide and not leaving Derek's face, worried that if he moves them they will linger down to where his hand is positioned.

"Your  _hand_." Derek sounds like he's having trouble forming words.  _Well_ , Stiles doesn't blame him. I mean, he  _does_ have his hand on the man's— "Stiles, your hand!  _Move it_."

"Okay! Yes! I can do that!  _Totally_ can do that!" He pulls his hand back quickly and holds it to his chest, like if he doesn't the alpha will tear the limb straight off. He certainly wouldn't put it past the guy, either.

As soon as his hand is away though, Derek seems to jump straight to the 'killing Stiles' part of the scene. Before Stiles can do anything, the alpha is pressing him up against the nearest kitchen wall, forearms bracketing both sides of his head and preventing any means of escape he'd originally had.

"Oh God," is the only thing he can manage to utter out when Derek leans forward, a literal small hair-width distance away from their noses touching.

Derek's breathing hard; shallow puffs of air though his nostrils, teeth still gritted together as he seethes. His eyes are glaring, jaded hazel darkening to an olive green.

Stiles gulps.

"I—I think this is getting a bi—" He stops talking when Derek's lips twist into a grin that shows his teeth; they're rather pointy and it takes a moment to let that sink in, and when it does…

_Oh, God, he's going to die…_

"Stiles, do you remember what I told you?" Derek says, voice a rough whisper as he leans closer, not stopping until his lips are brushing Stiles's ear.

"N-No." Stiles is trying (and  _failing_ ) to get his heartbeat under check. He swears that he's close to having a heart attack with how fast the thing is hammering in his chest.

Derek smirks. Stiles doesn't need to see it, he can  _feel_ it when the alpha's lips twitch, curling upward against his earlobe. "Now come on, Stiles, I thought you were the smart one," he purrs, like  _literally_ , because Stiles can hear  _and_  feel it vibrating through Derek's chest where they're pressed up together.

"Errrmmm, yeah, w-well sometimes I can be a bit—" He cuts off, surrendering to a gasp when Derek takes the earlobe into his mouth… and  _bites_. " _D-Derek…_ "

"Shhh." Derek puts a finger to Stiles's mouth, brushing it against his upper lip. "Just stop talking."

Stiles whimpers, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall, letting it tilt to the side when Derek's fanged teeth scrape across his jugular. The sensation gives him goosebumps; the glide of the alpha's canines against his skin is a dull prick that jolts a hot spark of heat throughout his body, where it travels through his veins and deep down into his loins.

"You like this, don't you Stiles?" Derek's arms are still enclosing him in but they're slowly starting to shift along the wall's surface, further apart, until they're both distanced away from each other. Then, before Stiles even manages to regain the breath he'd lost from the alpha mapping out his neck with his teeth, one of Derek's hands moves down from the wall, warmth of his palm resting on the bulge that's unrelenting and pushing against his jean's zipper. " _And_  this. You like  _this_ , don't you?" He presses the palm down and the shudder that racks through Stiles's body is nothing compared to what he's feeling inside.

" _Ah_ , D-Derek…" His jeans are becoming rather uncomfortable right now; his boner is pressing hard against his zipper, and with the force of Derek's hand it just makes the pressure even more painful. " _Please_."

"Please what?" Derek teases, palm rubbing tantalising circles into his crotch.

Stiles's breath is coming out in hard pants now, every molecule in his body burning for the desire to have something wrapped around his dick… and Derek is just being a downright  _asshole_ teasing him like this.

"Please  _what_ , Stiles?" Derek actually  _squeezes_ this time and it elicits a soft moan from his lips. His head lolls off from the wall to hang down, eyes fixated on the alpha's hand on his crotch that's back to rubbing his cock like he has to warm it up from a hidden case of hypothermia.

Stiles isn't used to begging for things that he wants, contrary to popular belief. Derek obviously  _wants_  him to beg before he does anything and Stiles thinks that if he could at least  _try_ then the alpha will give him what he oh-so-desperately needs.

"Please, Derek. Please, please,  _please_ ," he begs. Derek just smirks wryly, shaking his head. " _What_? What am I  _meant_  to say?  _God_."

Stiles's hips twitch forward, begging themselves for friction or heat or  _something_. Derek uses one hand to hold them against the wall, prohibiting their movement, before he licks a stripe up Stiles's neck and whispers, "What do you  _think_ I want you to say?"

"What do I  _think_ you want me to say?" Stiles says, eyes wide in disbelief. "Dude, you've got a hand on my dick! Why does this shit matter to you  _anyway_?"

Derek chuckles lowly. "It  _matters_  because," and he gets his thigh  _right there,_ between Stiles's legs, and his knee starts rubbing  _up_ , "I don't want to be sucking anyone's dick when they don't even have the  _manners_ to beg me for it."

Stiles now has a  _whole new reason_  to be gasping. Seriously, this guy is  _insane_. "But… But… But I've  _begged_! I  _have_!"

"I have a system for this, and sadly your efforts aren't matching up quite just yet. Sorry, but you're going to have to keep trying." Derek's voice is smug and Stiles just wants to  _punch him in the face_.

"You have a  _system_? What the fuck!" he cries. He feels his dick throbbing in its tight confines because Derek, the asshole that he is, has  _stopped_ giving it any attention. "Okay,  _what_? What am I meant to be saying?" he sighs, rolling his eyes. "Oh, okay. How about 'Derek, can you bow down to me and suck my cock?' or…  _Ah_ , I know! 'Sourwolf, would you please ever so kindly drop to your knees and furthermore deflower my penis of its virginity?'"

Derek is  ~~staring~~ glaring at him with a slight tick in his jaw, eyebrows narrowed down  _waaayyyy_  below his hairline. It looks like the guy wants to rip his throat out… with his teeth.

" _Okay_ , not the reaction I expected but—" Stiles is cut off by Derek actually  _dropping to his knees_ , looking up at Stiles through his eyelashes, hazel eyes taken over by a bright gleam of glowing red. "—yeah, this reaction is  _definitely_ better."

What happens  _next_  is something Stiles will  _always_ remember for as long as he walks on this earth as a poor, skinny human being…

Fine, sharp, pointy claws pop out of all five of Derek's fingers on his right hand… and then the alpha takes that hand and slashes it through the clad of denim material covering Stiles's legs.  _Just like that_. He keeps on at it, Stiles wide-eyed and ogling, until the jeans are nothing but shreds of material in messy tatters on the floor.

Derek looks up, red eyes glinting and lips quirking up slowly in a sly smile. "Your begging was a little off-key, but it'll have to do," he murmurs huskily.

And then he uses the same claws to rip up Stiles's black boxer briefs as well.

Stiles is now officially gaping like a goldfish… because Derek's mouth is slowly covering the expanse of his dick, inch by inch with lips pulled back and red glowing eyes directed straight up at him, gaze dark and heavy.

It literally, leaves him breathless.

"De— _erek_ ," he pants, hands grabbing to hold onto both sides of the wall as Derek rears back, lips pulling off of his dick before sliding back over the length again, tongue like an arrow as it darts in to swipe along the veined underside in a short flutter-like motion before flicking against the slit. " _Gah_ — _ahhh_."

Derek's mouth is a  _sin_ , he swears. The sounds that leave the alpha's mouth while his lips are wrapped around Stiles's dick are  _orgasm-inducing_. They're soft moans, wet slurps, and throat-rumbling growls that vibrate through Stiles's dick and throughout his whole body.

" _Ah_ , ooohhhh  _G-G-God_ , D-Derek." His eyes roll back in his head when the suction around his dick intensifies, the alpha literally drawing in the length of his cock with loud, obscene pops as he bobs his head up and down, faster and faster and faster… until Stiles's body literally combusts. "Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _fuck_. I'm g-gonna. Oh, shiiiiiiiiit."

Everything in Stiles's body feels like it's been set alight; it's like wildfire spreading through his veins with sparks of pleasure shooting through every molecule in his body. A full, all-powerful shudder wracks his body, mouth parted in a silent, hoarse cry and thighs quaking with the strain of holding himself up as the orgasm of a lifetime courses through him and leaves him limp and satisfied.

When he finally manages to come back down to earth from his orgasm-induced high, eyes fluttering open… What he sees has his dick (which is meant to be  _soft_. He just had an  _orgasm_ , goddamn it) going hard with just the sight.

Derek must have pulled up at  _just the right time_ because there is  _literally_  come  _all over his face_. There's white splatters of it on his cheeks, forehead, on his nose,  _in his hair_ and… and… and oh my God, the stuff's  _dripping off of his fangs_ (which are sharp and pointy, jutting out of the alpha's gums). Stiles is happy that Derek had decided to let them out  _after_ the awesome- _est_  blowjob of his life, because if he  _hadn't_? Yeah, it  _wouldn't_ have been that awesome.

Derek must catch him staring because…

"What? Do I have something on my face?" he teases. Stiles watches, wide-eyed, as the alpha brings a finger up to his face and wipes it across the come that's splattered on his cheek. "Oh." He smirks. "Better not waste it, huh?"

And then he's fucking  _licking it off_ like eating come is a normal  _thing_.

Probably is for freakin' werewolves anyway.

"Sooooo  _that_ just happened," he mutters weakly. Derek stands up and he just looks amused, arching an eyebrow. "Oh, c'mon, now don't you look all innocent. What the hell was that?"

Derek shrugs. "I like the way you taste," he says simply.

Stiles has  _nothing_ to say to that.

"Wow. I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless before," Derek laughs.

"Yeah, well, what do you  _expect_ me to say when you say things like  _that_?" he chuckles.

Derek shrugs again. "I don't know, just anything I guess. Silence, it's really such a good look on you," he teases.

"Oh ha-ha, very funny."

"It isn't funny, Stiles. This is a serious matter," Derek says, face like stone. "You not talking is like me not pushing you into walls." And then the alpha cracks a toothy smile. "It's abnormal, is what I'm saying. You shouldn't do it. It might lead people into thinking you're ill."

Stiles snorts. "Derek Hale has a funny side,  _and_ a toothy smiley side. Who would have known? I mean sure, I knew you had a growly side, and a sourwolf side… but a funny side, let alone a bunny teeth and  _smiley_  side? Talk about w—mmmffff."

Derek's lips are crashing against his before he can finish his sentence, tongue pushing its way into his mouth to entangle with his own in a battle of dominance. There's a salty, bitter, yet somewhat sweet flavour that bursts on his taste buds ( _his come_ , he thinks) the more he kisses Derek, and he can't help but let out a soft groan when the alpha's hands cup his face and tilt his head to the side as to get a better angle.

They're still kissing when Stiles decides to try something he's wanted to do ever since his eyes caught that shiny silver ring sparkling in the morning sunlight. He splays both his hands over the expanse of Derek's abdominals, running his hands over them and tracing his fingers across the smooth plates of firm muscle. The muscles ripple and start bunching up under his touch, and the hands cradling his face drop to the alpha's sides as Derek makes a short, muffled grunt against his lips.

 _Oh_ , _yeah_ , the alpha's got one nice overly reactive body.

This is going to be great.

After feeling up the tightly bunched muscles that cover the alpha's torso, he lets his hands run up Derek's sides, nails scraping pliant skin. The puff of breath that Derek expels in a sharp hiss against his lips is the only sign Stiles has that the alpha's enjoying this.

But he wants more.

Stiles goes further, left hand moving from Derek's side, and up, up, up… to the nipple ring. He brushes his fingers against the cool metal, and Derek muffles another grunt against his lips.

He grins.

The piece of silver is a nice touch in his hand as Stiles runs his fingers over it again. He can make out the curve of it where it enters Derek's nipple, can feel where it connects. He traces the curve of it with a finger, before taking the piece of metal in-between his thumb and index finger… and then gently tugs.

This reaction is a little different than the others.

Derek's mouth parts from his in a small gasp, the alpha resting his head on Stiles's shoulder, nose pressed into the crook of his neck under his jaw. " _Stiles_ … what are you doing."

Stiles smirks, tugging on the piece of metal a little harder. Derek groans softly. "Nothing, just fulfilling a fantasy," he quips smugly, tweaking the nipple ring in-between two fingers. Again, Derek just groans, breath shallow against Stiles's neck. "Say, since when did you even have a nipple ring anyway? I've never seen it before. Is it new?"

"No. Had it since I was sixteen," Derek says through gritted teeth, clenching his eyes shut as Stiles's other hand cups the bulge in his jeans.

"Really?  _Huh_. Then why have I never seen it before?" Stiles's hand fumbles with the alpha's jean zipper, pulling it down. He feels Derek's breath against his neck turn into tiny pants as he slips his hand under the alpha's boxers and grips Derek's leaking, hard cock. "Oh,  _damn_. I totally forgot you haven't got off yet," he chuckles, squeezing the length firmly.

Derek moans, hips pushing forward into the warmth of Stiles's hand. " _Ah_. I d-don't usually have it on. Today I ju— _ahhh_ —just decided to s-see if it still fit," he says, cursing softly when Stiles's fingers tug the nipple ring again.

"Wouldn't your wolf healing just heal it over, though?" Stiles asks as he starts pumping the alpha's cock in his hand, thumb brushing over the head and coaxing a spurt of pre-come to bubble out of the slit and coat his fingers; it makes the slide of his hand easier to control, though the firm tugs became a little slippery.

"Oh.  _Oh_. Y-Yeah, but— _ahhh—_ I can still w-wear it. The skin heals over and keeps it in p-place."

"What if you want to take it off? I mean, if the skin heals over it then wouldn't it be hard to get out?" Stiles knows Derek's close; the alpha's breaths are stuttering, ragged and shallow.

"I—I'm not going to take it out this t-time. F-Fuck Stiles,  _ungh_ , m'not gonna last much longer."

"I know, I know." Stiles speeds up with his hand, starts flicking his finger lightly against the silver metal of Derek's nipple ring, timing it with his tugs, eliciting breathier, panted moans from the alpha.

Derek can feel it creeping up on him. His release; it's imminent. Just a few tugs away. So,  _so close_.

" _S-Stiles_ , gonna _—ngh—_ g-gonna…"

"Yeah?" Stiles deepens in his strokes, twisting his hand around the head on every up-tug while letting his thumb play with the velvety, pebbled foreskin. "Come on, Derek. You can do it. I know you can. Just let go, Der," he crooned. " _Come for me_."

Stiles knows the exact moment when Derek comes. And it isn't what he had expected, to say the least.

He'd expected something like a choked-off grunt, a deep rumbling growl, or even a loud piercing howl for the alpha's epic finish.

But nope.

This is even  _hotter_.

Derek's mouth is wide open, parted against his neck. When the alpha comes, he lets out a string of loud, very  _hot_ ah's and oh's through shattered panting breaths, finishing off with a sort of mewling whimper.

Best. Orgasm. Sounds.  _Ever_.

By the time the alpha has finished coming, Stiles's hand is covered in the sticky white substance of Derek's release. The alpha's body has slouched forward and they're pressed together against the wall. Stiles can feel Derek's cock bump against his and a short, hissed groan leaves his lips.

"So… that was fun," he murmurs.

"Yeah," Derek croaks, nose still pressed into the space between his neck and jaw.

A couple minutes go by before…

"D'ya think I should get a nipple piercing?"

Derek lifts his head up slowly, and when Stiles sees the alpha's face, one of his eyebrows is arched in a  _you're kidding me_ kind of way.

"Hey, man, why not? Yours looks pretty cool… and sensitive."

Derek's other eyebrow arches, joining its friend.

"Ohhhh yeah. Those things are  _very_  sensitive _._ Hey, imagine mine huh? I think it'd be like  _super_  sensitive _."_

Derek's eyebrows rise higher, up to his hairline.

"You could even touch it. I mean, if you'd want to."

Derek's eyebrows narrow back down suddenly, and he growls low in his throat.

Stiles grins.

"Yep.  _Totally_ getting one."

Derek captures his lips in a bruising, forceful kiss, and Stiles… Yeah, Stiles thanks Scott  _a million_  times over in his head for spending time with Allison.

For once, their puppy love romance has an upside for one Stiles Stilinski.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a friend. She wanted a Sterek fic with nipple piercings in it. I hope you guys liked it. I tried my best to make it sound believable with the characters. Let me know what you think. Kudos and comments always mean a lot :)


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